


Thrill

by horrorsilk



Series: Kinktober 2020 [16]
Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Impact Play, Kinktober, Master/Pet, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27032653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorsilk/pseuds/horrorsilk
Summary: No matter what steps you've taken, you haven't been able to find Mannimarco again. But it turns out, you don't really have to try.Not when he's come to find you first.For Kinktober 2020 prompt: Impact play((Can also be considered a sequel to Thrall))
Relationships: Mannimarco (Elder Scrolls)/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947808
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Thrill

It's like you've been walking forever, your feet sore and legs aching as you force yourself along this last stretch of road. There's an inn around the bend, you just have to make it there before you can collapse. To the west the Sun has sunk low, dipping below the horizon, and within the hour it will be dark. Thankfully, you made good time today despite your leg screaming in protest with each step. 

It has been three months to the day since you woke up in that farmer's hut, and despite your searching, you haven't been able to find the necromancers - or their leader - again. Perhaps it's madness, willingly seeking Mannimarco again, but with the marks faded and the bruises long since healed, it's impossible to deny the craving that has settled in your bones. Your dreams have been almost feverish as of late, your mind painting pictures of those pale eyes as they scan your form, reminding you of those icy hands roving over your heated flesh. More often than not you wake up shaking, sweaty, bedclothes soaked but your body still unsatisfied. No dream can compare to the Worm King himself.

Ahead you can make out the warm squares of light that signal your arrival at the inn. Even your legs seem to rejoice at the sight of it; you can sit down for the first time in over twelve hours, after all. But before you can even reach out to touch the doorknob, your hand finds nothing but darkness as you tumble forward, falling into an empty void. 

You let out a gasp of surprise as you start to fall, swallowed up into the nothingness. For several moments you're in free fall, descending towards nothing, and just when you begin to wonder if you're going to be falling forever, you stop. 

It's cold and dark and you shift against the stone slab you're laying face down on. The darkness is inpenetrable and you realize that something is covering your eyes, but you can't remove it. Your wrists and ankles are bound, and while you struggle, you hear a soft chuckle from somewhere in the darkness. A shiver runs down your spine.

"Mannimarco," you whisper.

"Welcome back, pet," comes the icy reply. "And what a pleasant sight you are. Do you know how long I have been seeking you out?"

You pull at your binds, noticing that they're made of silk this time, the softness against your skin a welcome difference from the cruel ropes before. 

"You were looking for _me?"_ That surprises you; you wouldn't have thought the God of Worms would waste time and effort searching for you.

"I am not in the habit of letting that which belongs to me _wander off,"_ he says, and you hiss as his icy hands touch the back of your neck. "And you, my pet, wandered very far indeed." 

You wonder if maybe you should apologize when you feel his open palm smack against your rear, and you let out a cry of surprise mixed with desire. Mannimarco repeats the action again, a bit harder this time, but smooths his hand over the spot almost gently. 

"Perhaps I ought to show you what would happen if you should ramble off again without my permission." The words are hissed into your ear and you pull at your bonds again; not because you want to run, but because you want to tangle your fingers into his satiny hair, which is tickling your shoulder blades at this very moment. "And perhaps, if you earn my forgiveness, you might leave here not only alive, but with my blessing."

As much as you'd like to speak your agreement, your tongue has quite forgotten how to speak, so you can only give Mannimarco a few frenzied nods before he chuckles and stands once again. You wait, entire body on edge, as he tugs down your breeches, your heated skin immediately erupting into goosebumps as it is washed in the cool air. Just like your dreams. But unlike dreams, this is real, and the sting as the lich smacks your bare ass again and again takes your breath away. Before long you're shaking and whimpering as tears soak through your blindfold. Your skin, hot and sensitive, is given a final, echoing smack, but the hurt is soothed by his icy hands smoothing over it.

"I'm so sorry," you managed to choke out. 

"Hush, pet." Mannimarco's voice is almost sweet; it sets you on edge all over again. "I should not have let you wander so far in the first place." 

His fingers are cold enough to burn as he trails them up under your tunic, circling one of your nipples as he bends over you to kiss the back of your neck. Soft pleas tumble from your lips while you feel his weight against the backs of your thighs, and the rustling of cloth heralds his own undressing. More than ever before you wish you could _see,_ as the mere thought of his perfect cock erect for you is enough to make you salivate. But he shows you no such mercy as he grabs your hips, pushing you further up the stone so your ass is in the air. It's a sight he seems to enjoy, given the soft sound of approval he makes. 

Slowly he presses a single digit into you, and then a second, and a third, moving with excruciating care for a god of the dead as he makes certain you are ready to receive his blessing. Though in this moment you wish he would just take you already, prepared or not. Still, when he stretches himself over your back, you moan his name, and Mannimarco bites down on the back of your neck as he buries himself into your heat in one fell stroke. Colours you didn't know existed burst before your eyes, a long and breathless shout wrenching from your throat. 

He ruts into you while growling your name through the mouthful of your flesh he still holds in his teeth. His arms frame either side of your head, bracing himself as he drive into you with such force you know your skin will be raw as it rubs against the stone. But it's impossible to care. You, a mere mortal, have been deemed worthy of receiving the Worm King's cock. 

It's that thought alone, though perhaps aided by his clever fingers on your sex and his thrusts hitting just the right spot, that sends you over the edge, sobbing and crying your release. And as you clench against his cock, Mannimarco snarls your name and spills himself into your heat. For several moments he remains there, still over you as he pulls his softening member out of your body, and it's only as the icy touch of his body leaves yours that you realize you are no longer bound. Frantically you pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking even in the low light to see the Worm King vanishing around the corner, leaving you alone in the cold, cavernous room that you now realize is some sort of embalming chamber, judging by the tools on the shelves that line the walls. 

"Mannimarco," you breathe, voice harsh from your earlier cries of ecstasy. It's cold, and you wrap the remaining shreds of your clothing around you, unsure of whether to follow. 

But as you remain, paralyzed by indecision, the lich returns, carrying a heavy cloak with him, which he drapes over your trembling shoulders. A slender finger hooks under your chin to lift your face to look at him, and you are again struck by his ethereal beauty.

"You did well, pet," he purrs, corners of his lips tugging into a barely-existent smile. "Now, rest. When you wake, we have much to discuss." 

With that, he sits beside the stone slab and strokes your hair until you feel the weight of exhaustion settle into your bones. As he whispers your name, you let sleep coax you into its embrace.


End file.
